


Tell me words

by Angrieff



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Anal Sex, Brief appearance of drunk mess Jord, M/M, Nikandros being protective and so done, Smut, Spanking, akielon traditions, blowjob, learning new languages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 11:51:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6373648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angrieff/pseuds/Angrieff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You've spent a lot of time with Lazar these days." Nikandros commented this morning as they were sparring in the training ring. </p><p>"He teaches me Veretian" Pallas answered as his sword flew out of his hand for the second time this morning. Nikandros gave him a concerned look. "You don't seem in good shape. Your movements are stiff. I wouldn't have thought the games would tire you that much."<br/>Pallas couldn't hide a smile. "Veretian is harder than you think." Nikandros jaw tighten and he threw his sword back to Pallas, putting himself in position. "Again."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell me words

**Author's Note:**

> I needed more Lazar/Pallas fic, so here we are!  
> Please tell me in the comments what you think and what I could make better! (this is my first fanfiction and I've a lot to learn ^^)  
> Also I totally blame [Josselin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Josselin/pseuds/Josselin/works?fandom_id=3516977) for dragging into Lazar spanking Pallas thanks to her amazing fic [Twenty-Five](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5997051).

An endless valtz of spiced meats and sauces was unfolding through the heated afternoon, as the celebration of the games began. Servants were bringing jugs of wines, fruits, and olive oil to pour in the plates and the assembly buzzed with laughters, joy and excitment. Lazar lazily passed a dish to his neighbour - some Akielon young soldier that had managed to stay in line for the final games - as his eyes were focused on this day's champion, the young and handsome Pallas. Fullfilling one of this strange Akielon traddition, the laureate of today's games was posing naked and oiled in the centre of the room, resplendishing in his glory, golden flowers crowning his wild curls. One spear in his hand, the other languishly resting on his hip, he was being sketched by Akielos' most talented artists who meant to make a statue of him. 

As many of the Veretians, Lazar's gaze couldn't stop devouring the muscled body of this marvel of a man, from the face with high cheekbones and straight nose, to the round and firm ass that usually was barely covered by a chiton. Lazar decided that he liked Akielos' tradditions very much. He quickly glanced at the twin thrones higher up in the room, where Laurent entertained Makedon while King Damianos was completely absorbed in the contemplation of his lover. Then, Lazar felt Nikandros' gaze upon him, jauging, analyzing. Lazar knew quite well that his interest in Pallas was rather evident and that Nikandros remained very reserved on the topic of multicultural fornications. He paid the Akielon no attention and bit in his meat, eyes focused on Pallas' every movements.

He had tried to approch the soldier back when they were ridding under cover to Ios but the lack of intimacy and Nikandros' cold presence didn't lead to much. And Pallas remained quite ignorant on the matter of speaking Veretian while Lazar's Akielon hadn't reached his expectations yet. 

Lazar felt a presence heavily drop on his right and eyed at a tired Jord who lightly smacked him on the back. 

"You're staring too much" Jord turned to him, "it disturbs him."

Lazar shrugged but did notice that Pallas was shifting awkwardly, earning him warning glances from the artists settled around him. But to Lazar's incredulity, Pallas slightly turned around so that the Veretian soldier could have the perfect view of his curves. He winked to him.

"He doesn't seem very disturbed to me" Lazar laughed back and raised his glass to Pallas before shoving the wine down his throat. 

"Rumours say that laureates of the Akielon games can spend hours and hours bedding slaves, spreading them open like their spears piercing their targets during the okton." Jord muttered, already affected by the wine. 

"Well considering that if even our frigid king is now spreading for an Akielon champion, I guess that must be true." Lazar conceded. "But an ass like that... What a waste."

He tapped the shoulder of the soldier beside him and asked in a rough Akielon. "What does Pallas like?"

The soldier raised a curious eyebrow at him. "Swordfights, games, wine..." 

Lazar rolled his eyes. "In bed."

The blush of the Akielon was so heavy that even his dark skin couldn't conciled it. Lazar was no fool however, Pallas was a frequent subject of conversation even between Akielons and his preferences must be known by many. 

However, no answer came at all and Lazar felt a shadow covering him. Before he could say anything, the Akielon soldier had left and Pallas had taken his place beside him. The Veretian could feel the room attention directed towards them and decided to ignore it. 

"Tired?" He asked in Akielon, scrutating Pallas as he was fastening a chiton over his oiled body. The young man shrugged and started to devour every piece of meat that would fall under his hand.   
Lazar watched the movement of his arm muscles, the strong thighs folding under the table and the glimpse of this bottom he often dreamed of. He also noticed that Pallas long and stark black eyelashes would brush his skin evertime he blinked and his lips, now shining with olive oil, were full and big and desirable and he felt himself lean in before stopping. Pallas' eyes were on him, mouth slightly opened, meat juice dripping slowly down his chin. The champion put down the rib he was ripping and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, turning to Lazar. 

"Words" he said in a heavy accented Veretian.

"What?" 

"Words. Tell me. New words?" A new spark of interest lit in Lazar's eyes. This was getting exciting. 

"Hmmm... Fellation." 

Pallas eyes were eager. "What is?" He asked. Lazar made the gesture with his tongue and watching Pallas blushing gradually as realisation hit him gave him great pleasure. "Tell me words." The young man was asking for more.

"Okay. Dick. Fucking. Asshole." He ponctuated each words with a suggestive movement. Pallas' pupils were now completely blown. Lazar felt himself shiver with anticipation as Pallas carefully repeated the words in a shy murmur. "Fellation. Dick. Fucking. Asshole. You... With me?" 

Lazar was about to manifest his enthousiasm and excitement to this idea when Jord choosed that it was time to drop his head on Lazar's shoulder with a loud snore. Lazar's desperate eyes watched Pallas leave, chuckling softly, and disappear into the gardens. 

***

When Lazar finally arrived in the gardens after many struggles to get rid of Jord and his drunkness, he began searching for Pallas, hoping his delay woudn't have tarnished the young soldier's desire. 

The Veretian barely paid attention to the sculptures and fountains or dawn overhelming the sky. He made his way through the olive trees, expecting at every turn to find Pallas sprawled on a stone bench, naked, full of expectation and desire. Instead of this perfect view that was already sending shivers down his spine, Lazar's heart missed a beat when he came accross a discarted chiton, abandonned on the ground. Following the trail, the soldier pushed aside the branches of some bushes and fell into one of this secret garden courts that were hidden to curious eyes. 

Pallas was waiting for him. The young man, brown skin hot in the nightfall heat, laid naked on his stomach, his face in his arms, eyes fixed on the Veretian. His legs were slowly moving, dancing in the air, making the muscles of his ass flex in the fading sunlight. 

Lazar felt a burst of excitement and instinctively put his hand on his growing hardness, breath already short, shivering. Half of him wanted to rush to Pallas, kiss him, touch him, making him moan and saying Akielon profanities, burry himself deep inside of this ass until he would hear nothing but the sound of their skin smacking together. Instead of that, he put his hand in his pants, brushing his erection as Pallas straddled the bench and started to rub himself slowly on it, moving his hips, lips slightly opened in silenced sighs of pleasure. This view was overhelming and Lazar knew it could send him on the edge in the blink of an eye so he restrained his desire, he stroked himself carefully, matching Pallas' ondulations. Until he couldn't take it anymore. Never in his life had Lazar been out of his clothes so quickly. His pants dropped first, followed by jacket, laces, undershirt, boots. He rushed to Pallas, making him roll on his back, capturing his lips in heated passion. The young champion was still tasting of wine and meat and their tongues met messily as Pallas took him in hand. Soon, the Akielon was moaning under him, overhelmed by Lazar mouth travelling on his body, sucking on his offering throat, circling and nipping at his hard and perky nipples while the Veretian calloused hands massaged his ass and wouldn't let go of it. 

Lazar felt Pallas hands guiding his hips closer to his face and a loud groan escaped his lips when the young soldier took him in his mouth, blushing heavily. Lazar remembered hearing about how anything like this or being mounted was a disgrace for champions, warriors and royals in Akielos but Pallas was totally and hopelessy giving himself to him without any hesitation. He grabbed the Akielon's dick and worked it with haste, hearing Pallas moans around him and spreading his legs, meeting each of his movements with the slow thrust of his hips. Already Lazar felt himself of the verge of spilling but he needed more and Pallas had so much to offer. He let his hardness slip out of his mouth and kissed him before making him roll again on his stomach. Lazar took hold of Pallas hips and raised them, so that his ass was up and welcoming. This was better than any Veretian he had ever taken to his bed. Pallas turned his neck to eye him, still flushed.

"Fuck me."   
Lazar smirked at the accented Veretian and rubbed his erection between his cheeks. 

"Don't you know how to be polite?" He retorted in Akielon, thumbs circling around Pallas' already oiled entrance.

"Fuck me please!" Pallas wimpered in despair, backing his hips in search of a more intimate contact. 

Lazar smacked his ass with a strong slap and said: "Beg in Veretian." 

"Fuck me please, Lazar -ah, fuck me, put dick in my asshole, please, please...!" Lazar ponctuated each of Pallas' words with a smack and each time the Akielon's cries were louder, engulfed with demented pleasure, until the skin was red and hurting and Pallas' elbows and knees scratching on the hard stone. 

With his other hand, Lazar had introduced two fingers in Pallas, moving them in rythm with the slaps, preparing for what was coming next. After a bunch of more smacks, he took them out and aligned himself with the young champion's body, covering him entirely. He let his beard brush Pallas' neck and entered him slowly as he whispered Veretian filth in his ear, nose burried in the dark curls. When he was fully in, Pallas was trembling under him, covered in oil and sweat, a thin rivulet of saliva escaping the corner of his lips. 

"Please, Lazar..." The Akielon begged in a murmur, head dropped between his shoulders. 

Lazar couldn't wait anymore. He built of rythm of strong and fast thrusts, smashing himself against Pallas who would swear, cry, moan, beg even more half in Akielon, half in Veretian as Lazar hands played with his nipples, teased his dick, shoving one or two fingers in his mouth that Pallas sucked on eagerly. Lazar wanted to break him, to have him come undone, opened wide and begging and each of his thrust was full of the anticipation of all those days spent thinking of that very moment. He lost himself into praises breathed in Pallas' spice scented hair, telling how good it was, how long he had wanted this, how his ass was the most magnificent thing in the world and how such a good boy he was for eagerly spreading his legs like this. 

Feeling himself close to release, Lazar grabbed Pallas' hair and pulled his head back as he smacked his ass some more hard and loudly.  
"Pallas, come for me Pallas." He stuttered in confusion and Pallas half collasped under him as he came in hot stripes on the bench with Lazar's name on his lips. The view of Pallas' abandon and the overhelming sensations of being within him finally sent Lazar to the edge as he spilled inside of Pallas, vision blurred, swearing, cursing, damning this beauty that made him lost his mind. He rode out his orgasm with a few more thrusts, trembling, before dropping heavily on the young soldier. They both stayed like this for some time as night had settled, catching their breath in the afterglow of their commune pleasure. Then Lazar pushed himself up and slid out of Pallas, watching his semen drip from the asshole. His thumb carressed the flesh of the young man ass, sensible and bright red from the slapping. 

Pallas pushed him over and they sat on the bench, kissing slowly, brushing their fingers together. Lazar found himself lost in the champion golden eyes and his smile of genuine joy and fullfillment. 

"You should teach me more words." Pallas whispered in Akielon with a spark in his irises. His flesh had to be on fire and he had roughly scraped his knees and elbows, but this didn't seem to matter to him. 

"Anytime you want." Lazar already felt himself hardening again at this idea. "I have a couple of words in mind."

Pallas laughed and smacked Lazar on the back. He went to collect his chiton and the Veretian clothes, limping, semen still dripping down his thighs and gestured Lazar to join him. 

"If you are giving me private lessons, we should be better in my room, don't you think?" 

***

"You've spent a lot of time with Lazar these days." Nikandros commented this morning as they were sparring in the training ring. 

"He teaches me Veretian" Pallas answered as his sword flew out of his hand for the second time this morning. Nikandros gave him a concerned look. "You don't seem in good shape. Your movements are stiff. I wouldn't have thought the games would tire you that much."

Pallas couldn't hide a smile. "Veretian is harder than you think." Nikandros jaw tighten and he threw his sword back to Pallas, putting himself in position. "Again."

They sparred once more and this time Pallas seemed to take this seriously, showing his skills, almost winning over Nikandros until the kyros threw some secret mastered movement to reverse the situation. But this pleasant exchange under the heavy sun was cut short when Lazar made his appearance, wineskin in hand. He took place on one of the bench meant for spectators and raised his wine to Pallas. The young soldier almost immediatly turned to Nikandros, sparking with playfullness. 

"Maybe we should do some wrestling." He suggested as he purposely bent forward to pick up his sword and let Lazar enjoy the view. 

Nikandros looked like he was going to choke on his own despleasure. The kyros slid his sword in its sheath and left the ring in wide and fast strides. 

"We're done for today." 

If Nikandros had knew the unification of two kingdoms would end with his soldiers spreading legs for every pale Veretian that would cross their path, he wouldn't have signed for this.  
At least the King Damianos was safe from this.   
For now.

**Author's Note:**

> I also do Captive Prince fanarts on my [Tumblr](http://and-watch-me-wander.tumblr.com/tagged/my-art), yay!


End file.
